by Nat Kozinn
“Did you at least tell the OEC higher ups about Billy the Kid. We need allies to try and convince the police he’s responsible for the bombing. Linda has my memories; she can corroborate my story,” I say.
“Gavin, you seem to have forgotten how you got those memories. You illegally left the OEC office, violating your parole. Then you tracked down a police officer and beat a confession out of him. If Linda shares those memories, you are going to be the only criminal anyone goes after.”
“I’ll go to jail if that means they’ll finally do something about William. I might have assaulted an officer, but I wasn’t the one who blew his brains out. I saw who did it, and it’s in my memories.”
“You saw a black man who you thought looked like a famous basketball player. I’m sure there’s a racially insensitive joke in there.”
“My mind doesn’t work that way. My memories don’t get warped because I control my mind,” I say flatly.
“I’m glad you think that, and maybe it’s even true, but do you think anyone else will buy it? Let’s say they somehow track William down and catch him. The only evidence they have is a confession that a criminal beat out of a crooked cop and one fleeting glance from that same criminal. You’re the criminal Gavin. That isn’t enough evidence to convict him. I’m not even sure if Billy faking his death is a crime. Best case scenario he gets indicted for failing to file tax returns or something like that. He’ll end up paying a few thousand in penalties and interest. Maybe it’ll be compounded, that will really stick it to him.”
“I could go to the press,” I argue.
“You think they want to implicate the L.A.P.D. in a cover-up with no evidence? You think they want to run a story about a dead NBA star who’s really alive and a serial killer? No real news source will be interested, but I’m sure the think.Net tabloids would love that story. They can’t make up a story that good,” Captain Murphy says with sarcastic laugh. Victor and I don’t crack a smile.
Before I can voice my next counter-point, my heads rings with an alert. Maria wants to talk. I take the call.
>>>Gavin, I found something in the rubble. It’s a large steel plate stamped with the name “Long Beach Foundry.”
<<
>>>That’s what I thought. Which means it came from the bomb. The bomb must have been built there.
<<
>>>That isn’t an option. My captain wasn’t happy with all the time I’ve been spending at the site. I was ordered to stay away from the bombsite. I had to pretend I was a construction worker to get through to find the metal. They aren’t going to want to see my evidence. The Governor already announced that it was an accident caused by a Different. I’m getting the impression that no one will want to make the new Governor look bad by admitting it was really a bomb, let alone one we don’t have any more information on. If I bring the steel to my captain he’ll tell me it’s nothing, and I’ll be suspended and maybe even locked in the Looney Bin if I mention Billy the Kid. That’s why I’m telling you about it.
<<
>>>And I guess you’ve got the monopoly on dangerous? I knew you’d say that, which is why I waited till I was most of the way to the foundry to call you. It’s a long walk and out of think.Net range, so I’ll see you when you get here.
She ends the call.
“You know Gavin, just because you do some sort of weird quasi-stare doesn’t mean we can’t tell you’re on think.Net. People don’t space out for twenty seconds in the middle of a conversation unless they’re having a stroke,” Captain Murphy says while rolling his eyes.
“It was my friend on the police force. She found something that links the bomb to a foundry in Long Beach. I have to go help her.”
“Didn’t you hear my whole spiel about how we aren’t allowed out on missions and our charter only allows us to go after Differents?” Captain Murphy says with a huff.
“You said it yourself, Captain: we’re done. The one chance we have of saving our jobs is proving Gavin’s theory of a serial killer and a police cover-up,” Victor counters.
Captain Murphy takes a moment and then says, “I can’t allow you two to go out. What I can do is go to the bathroom for a good long while. Then maybe I’ll head home for the day. Perhaps after a conversation with our resident Telepath. I hear she’s great at covering tracks.”
Captain Murphy walks out of the room. I wait until I hear the bathroom door close, then we run out of the building.
#
“She should already be waiting for us at the foundry,” I say to Victor.
I’m struggling with my breathing. We’ve been running for twelve miles. The foundry is thirteen miles from the Slug line. Long Beach wasn’t even technically part of old Los Angeles. We are way out, and far from help. I shouldn’t focus on that fact. At least Victor is slowing himself down to keep up with me. He’s even refrained from teasing me about my relative lead-footedness. He’s starting to appreciate the skills I bring to the table.
“So she does whatever she wants without consulting the people she’s working with. I know someone who does the same thing,” Victor says.
“If you mean someone who does what’s right and doesn’t worry about the consequences, then yeah, we have that in common.”
“They say shared values are the key to a successful relationship.”
“I’ve got to focus on my breathing. All this chatting is slowing me down. If we’re going to bother talking, it should be about our strategy, not gossip.”
“If you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing, you’d be beat red,” Victor laughs, “What do you mean strategy? We’re going to the foundry to look for clues. We’ll do our due diligence, but here’s no way he’s living out here. There are literally thousands of abandoned buildings closer to the Metro Area. Nobody is so paranoid that they want to run a half-marathon every time they get hungry. He raided the foundry for materials. This is far enough out that the scavengers probably haven’t even hit the place yet.”
“Maybe not, but something about this doesn’t seem right. It seems too sloppy to leave such an easily traced piece of evidence,” I say.
“You said he has friends in high places. He must be counting on them to keep the police away. That’s why they keep insisting it was an industrial accident. And didn’t you say your cop friend was told not to keep digging?”
“Yeah, she was, and we’re about there. We should keep it down.”
I managed to change Victor’s opinion of me. He used to see me as some punk kid who got lucky with The Beast and ended up with a heap of accolades I didn’t deserve. He still knows that’s true, but he also knows I’m willing to risk my own well-being in order to do what’s right, and he respects that. His attitude towards me has changed. He’s still ribbing, but now it’s actually in good fun as opposed to seething with animosity like it was before.
The foundry is surrounded by the husks of old apartment buildings ravaged by the Plagues and abandoned long ago. The foundry itself is a large complex of collapsed catwalks, half-collapsed smoke stacks, and a mostly-collapsed warehouse. The catwalks are unexpected. You don’t usually see so much intact metal. It’s surprising that it survived the Plagues and downright shocking that the metal hasn’t been collected yet. I guess Victor was right that the scavengers haven’t made their way out here yet. Thirteen miles to the Slug is a long way to carry metal.
“I guess there’s no doubt where the metal came from,” I say.
“After we make it back into think.Net range, I’m going to have to call my cousin. He’s a scrapper, and this is the haul of a lifetime. We should make sure the place isn’t wired with explosives first, but then again, he makes me go to karaoke every time we get together,” Victor says.
We spot Maria waiting in front of the ware
house entrance.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to be super fast or something like that?” Maria asks while tapping her foot.
“Talk to your pal Gavin. I could have been here an hour ago,” Victor says and gives me a little jab in the ribs. It’s a harder poke than it should be. I’m lucky I can’t feel pain.
Maria smirks, “What’s the plan? All three of us spread out and search? I’m assuming any materials used to make the bomb will be in the warehouse. There are some offices too.”
“I’m worried the place might be booby trapped or something. Maybe you should let the two of us make sure it’s safe before you come in,” I say.
“I found out about this place, and now you want to steal all the glory,” Maria says.
“We’ll still need your help searching for evidence. Just let us make sure it’s safe. Besides, isn’t it police procedure to have someone on watch in case the perpetrator is here and makes a run for it?”
“Fine, I’ll go around back in case he’s inside and bolts. But don’t you go searching around without me. Once you’re sure you aren’t going to explode, yell for me,” Maria says and walks off in a huff.
“You like her,” Victor says while Maria is still too close for comfort.
“Let’s go check this place out. You can tease me later.”
“I’ll take the lead. If we’re worried about booby traps, I’ve got some experience with them. We need to move slowly and carefully.”
We walk up some concrete steps and approach the front door to the warehouse, stepping slowly and lightly. Victor takes the lead and begins to carefully push the decrepit front door open. There’s an audible ‘click’ when the door gets about six inches open.
“I heard something!” I yell.
“I heard it too. The door is rigged.”
“What do we do!?”
“We stay calm. We’re still alive, aren’t we? As long as I hold the door in this position, we’re safe. What I need you to do is reach through the crack of the door and see if you can find the triggering mechanism. It’s most likely on the floor.”
I lay down flat on my stomach and reach through the crack. I grope around until I find something hard pressed up against the door.
“I think I found it.”
“There should be a depressed trigger. As long as it stays depressed we stay alive. Now, I need you to—”
Victor is interrupted by an incredibly loud boom. It’s a sound I’ve heard before, a shot from a long range rifle. It only takes one look at Victor to know he’s already dead. Half his face is gone. If I don’t move now, I will be dead too. I pull my arm out of the doorway, turn, plant my feet, and dive.
The explosion behind me propels me ten feet through the air. I land with a thud as bits of shrapnel tear into my body. The chunks of metal and concrete become tiny knives that rip open my flesh but miraculously miss anything vital. There’s another loud boom, and a bullet hits the pavement right next to my head. I scramble backwards towards the explosion, using the smoke and dust as cover.
I can’t stay here long; the dive knocked the wind out of me. I don’t have much oxygen in my lungs, and I don’t want to breathe in the smoke. I replay the sound of the two gunshots in my head and try to echolocate the source. It came from the roof of the three-story half-collapsed apartment building across the street. If I run into the building, he won’t have a shot.
I take off towards the doorway. A bullet whizzes by my head just before I duck inside. The building has been damaged by floods, the walls torn down to the bones. I take position and wait for Billy to come through the door but he could also come through any of a dozen windows or holes in the wall, more than I can watch.
Sure enough, he suddenly appears to my right, pointing a handgun. I dive behind a pile of rubble. He puts a bullet in my left shoulder before I get behind cover. Three more bullets land in the concrete pile I’m hiding behind. I pick up a small chunk of concrete and wait for him to show his face. I hope my fastball is working today. I should have brought my gun, even with Victor and his judgment around. I was taught this lesson last time when William killed Detective Rose, but I refused to learn.
“Drop the gun right now!” Maria yells. She heard the boom and came running. Now she’s got the drop on William from behind. I start heading over to assist.
“Are you kidding me, lady?” William says to Maria.
A gunshot answers his disbelief. It was just a warning though. I hear the metal clank of his gun hitting the ground.
“That’s officer to you. Kick the gun to my friend over there,” Maria says.
William kicks the gun towards me. I drop my brick and pick up the handgun. There’s an upgrade.
“Get on the ground and keep your hands where I can see them,” Maria orders with an authoritative voice at a volume that shouldn’t be possible considering her tiny frame.
William is getting onto his belly twenty feet away from me. As he goes down he drops a small, round metal object. What is that? The answer is a deafening blast that damages my eardrum and a blinding flash of light that destroys the photoreceptor cells in my eyes, leaving me blind. Did that lunatic set off a flash bang? I start reproducing photoreceptor cells as quickly as I can. My ears are ringing, but if I focus I can still make out other sounds.
What I hear sounds like a scuffle, and then William yells.
“Stay down! I don’t want to hurt you!” I can’t tell if he’s yelling for effect or because his hearing is shot. Either way, I doubt Maria can hear him. I’m guessing William covered his eyes when the grenade went off, otherwise he’d be as blind as I am.
I can hear William shuffling around, trying to regain his balance after the flash bang. If I wait behind this rubble, he’s going to come and kill me. It’s going to take me at least another thirty seconds to regrow enough cells in my eyes to see. It occurs to me that he doesn’t know I’m blind. I imagine the room in my mind’s eye. He was about twenty feet away from me. I stand up from behind the rubble, aim my recently acquired gun at my best guess to where he’s standing, and pull the trigger nine times. I hear William run and then hit the ground. That bought me some time.
I dive back behind the rubble just in time to avoid his return fire. He must have picked up Maria’s gun. My vision is starting to return, but all I can see are shadows. I hear steps heading towards me. I pop up, aim at a shadowy figure, and fire a shot. I hear a scream, a female scream. I hit Maria! I drop back behind my cover and listen. She’s still breathing, thank God.
Then I hear another set of footsteps approaching me, William. I need to lead him away from Maria. I still only see shadows, but that’s enough to get to my feet and start running. Bullets follow me, but I know I need to get him away from her. If I can buy myself a few more seconds, my vision should be back to normal. Then I can stop William and save Maria. I run towards a doorway I remembered to my left before the explosion.
My nose hits first. I feel the bone break while the rest of my face continues on into the solid object, and I collapse to the ground. I try to get back to my feet, but my nerve signals are all jumbled. My legs buckle under me. I think I damaged my brain.
“The Beast Slayer felled by a doorframe. Not exactly one for the storybooks. I’m sorry, kid. I respect you, I really do. You’re a good man. You want to help people. But you can’t help what you are and what you are-- is a threat to the human race,” a voice in the darkness says.
I look up and see William pointing a gun at me. I get my power of sight back just in time to watch myself die.
“Wait! How many assists did you have in game four against the Lakers?” I ask. I’m desperate. For some reason I recall a distraction technique I read about once. Non-sequitur questions are supposed to be effective for throwing people off.
“I can barely hear you, but it doesn’t matter what you say anyway. It’s not personal, kid. It’s about the survival of the human species. If your kind keeps reproducing, who knows how many more Danny Libdos they’ll be? We have to go to
war, deep down everybody knows it. The reason it hasn’t started yet is because the human race doesn’t think it has the firepower needed to win the fight. I’m going to show them that victory is within reach.”
I try to lift up and aim my gun, but my arms and hands aren’t working right. The gun drops from my hands.
William is about to squeeze his own trigger when a hundred and thirty pound wrecking ball barrels into him. I can’t believe Maria still has any strength left. She has a bullet in her, can’t possibly see anything but shadows, and I bet she’s still deaf, but that doesn’t seem to be slowing her down. Her blow knocks the gun out of William’s hand. She starts trying to pin his arm behind his back. She knows what she’s doing.
Unfortunately, William knows what he’s doing as well, and he’s got a hundred pounds on her. He throws himself backwards, slamming Maria into the wall. I hear one of her ribs crack. She lets go of William’s wrist, and he swings around and gives her a full force upper-cut to the jaw. She goes down like a sack of potatoes.
I feel a surge of anger, which I let flow through me. I use the moment she bought me to find some strength in my weakened legs, and I stand and charge into William, tackling him to the ground. As I knock him down, he goes into a backwards summersault and is back on his feet in a flash. I stand up too.
We circle each other for a moment. My vision is about back to normal, so I’m guessing he can hear at least a little now.
“You aren’t supposed to hit women!” I yell.
“Chivalry goes out the window when you’re outnumbered, especially if one of your opponents is supposed to be the perfect human being. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I have to stop you. The OEC is a farce. It lets the government pretend Differents can be controlled.”
He assumes a stance with his hands open and separated and his feet a few inches apart. I recognize it as jujitsu—score one for all that time studying fighting videos on think.Net. Jujitsu is designed to use an opponent’s own strength against him. A good choice for fighting me.
